


Damn You Nick

by tigereyes45



Series: Surviving the Commonwealth with Wren [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, I fucking love this trio, Late Night Conversations, Late Night Writing, Multi, small pangs of jealously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-11-22 12:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20874149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45
Summary: They were visiting Sanctuary again. Not an uncommon occurrence. What was uncommon was how heavy the rain was coming down, and how long this storm was lasting. Of course, she's warm inside talking to an old friend, and he's stuck barely under a roof talking to the closest being he could call an old friend. Not that she made either of them stand there.





	1. That Fucking Question

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be my first multi-chapter Fallout 4 fanfic so feel free to offer constructive criticism. All ships listed are going to be canon even if not all are heavily featured in this first chapter.

Hancock smiles as he remembers the first time he saw the sole survivor of vault 111. Her hair was up in a loose ponytail. Her disheveled bangs the only semblance of something out of place beside her clothing. She wore a worn fedora and a suit that matched her companion’s. Her own was a little more sun-bleached then Nick’s. The old synth offered him a smile as the two walks in basically hand in hand to Goodneighbor. Her eyes covered by a pair of goggles with lenses so green he thought they must've been her eyes. It was probably just the chems he was coming down from.

It was the moment when she saw him, and instead of fear, she smiled, that Hancock knew someone interesting had come to Goodneighbor. Well, it was already interesting that she came buddy-buddy with Nick fucking Valentine. Though if anyone was a buddy with a synth like that then it would be him. The smile was what really sealed it. Even if he had to kill a man to let her stay, it would be worth it. He had known that even then. When she broke into the city’s vault and convinced Bobbi to stand down he was even more impressed by her. No one could’ve convinced him that he made the wrong choice.

As the rain starts to fall heavily on his head Hancock moves to stand further under the roof. It was metal and riddled with holes. They were standing in Sanctuary for one of her common visits. Only instead of the usual sunny skies and rare rainstorm had rolled in right after them. So now here Hancock stood, his suit slowly getting drenched as he presses his back deeper into a wall under the partially still standing roof where all the Minutemen seem to stay. Sturges shuffles past him as Nick tips his hat to the mechanic. All he could hear was the sounds of echoing metal. Each drop causing a different sound from the last. Hundreds going off all at once. He never quite missed his office as much as he did right now.

“He’s been working hard on these houses for the last few days,” Nick informs Hancock as the synth swoops in under the roof to join him. Somehow his own familiar uniform was nearly completely dry. Was it because he was a synth? Did he have some kind of fucking automatic drying feature? Hancock tucks his hands into his armpits. If the old guy was still dry by the end of it well he was damn sure gonna find out.

“The weather hasn’t slowed him down a bit.”

Hancock rolls his eyes as if he had been listening to every word Nick said. Quickly he diverts his gaze to peek inside.

“She’s still talking to that old ghoul.” Nick leans closer to him to get a glimpse. A small half-smile. It looked too sad for Nick. As grim-faced and just overall mood the synth usually was, it still felt out of place. Just like it was wrong. Hancock looks back at the two talking pleasantly inside. At least he wasn’t the only one miserable.

Wren was inside still talking closely with the vault-tec ghoul. The old ghoul was always quick to cheer up and be surprisingly familiar with her whenever they stopped by. She always offers him a bowl of mole rat soup. He accepts it greedily. They then spend the next few hours just chatting as they were doing now. Hancock smiles at the sight as a bitter feeling grips him. Might as well keep lying about whatever it was to everyone. Including himself.

“She gets along with everyone.”

“Save for the raiders.” Nick reminds him as if anyone needed a reminder. He digs his breaking fingers into his trenchcoat. His eyes freeze for a moment before he looks away. A habit the old synth had from the memories of a long-dead detective. A smoker like no other. Even after his smokes had long since lost their feel. He could probably just run a memory of how they felt and there they are again, but smokes were hard to come by nowadays. Besides, Wren didn’t like the smell. Once she and Ellie teamed up together to get him to stop, well he stopped. The habits were there. They would always be there.

Nick catches him looking and the sad smile is gone. “Old dog, new tricks as they say.”

“Old dog, old tricks more like it.”

“Aye well live for a hundred years then come talk to me about quittin’ chems.”

“I think she’s got ya beat on the years.”

“She does.” Nick concedes solemnly.

Hancock makes a show of looking back and forth between them. His eyes lingering longer with everyone glance. He pulls his dry lips back into a smug grin. As if he had just won a game of poker.

“She looks better than ya too.”

“Cryo does that to people I hear.”

“I’m just having some fun. Really, Nick, you need to laugh more. Relax! Enjoy life. We’re going to have long ones after all.”

Nick rests his hand on the top of his hat. His palm pulls it down just enough to cover his eyes. His voice is soft but steady as he speaks. “We do, but that doesn’t mean we’ll always be able to laugh. Until I break down completely I’m not going anywhere.”

The Mayor looks back and wonders if he could say the same.

Hancock glances back in at the warm fire between the two. Wren looks up at that moment. For a brief second their eyes meet. She offers him a soft yet wild smile. The same one from that first day in Goodneighbor. Hancock tries to smile back. By the time his muscles settle she was looking away again. Listening to the vault-tec ghoul go on about his record number of sales or some shit. Hancock wasn’t really sure, and he didn’t care. He had a question he needed to find the answer too. Damn Nick for bringing it up.


	2. Keeping Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every once in awhile it's time to clean the house.

Wren spent most of her free time collecting toys or cleaning up her old house. Nick sits quietly in a lawn chair she had moved over to the front yard. She had nicked them from a neighbor’s yard along with a table. Hancock nicked the other three chairs. All from different houses as well. He looks in through the shatter windows. She refused to take down the whole building. Won’t even take down a wall and replace it. Yet there she goes sweeping all the leaves and rad roach shit out of her old home. He never really took her as the sentimental type.

He guesses things are only different for this old home because deep down, she’s still grieving. Nick knows what grief can do to sentimentality. He’s seen the signs before. In himself and in others. It could turn deadly but he supposes theirs no harm in just trying to clean your old family home. Now if the denial gets any worse then it could be a problem, but it wasn’t his place to tell her that.

“Hey Wren, what are you doing?”

Wren's head flies in his direction but her grassy green eyes shoot past him towards the ghoul who had called. Nick finally notices that her usual goggles were now hanging in the crook of her arm. Hancock rests his arms on the bottom of a broken window. He leans in on them as his neck becomes leveled with the middle pane of it. She looks down at the broom in her hands and smirks.

“Can’t you tell? I’m making dinner. Tonight we’re having Rad Roach squirts.”

“Alright alright. I get it was a damn foolish question.”

“More than foolish,” Nick mutters earning an eye roll.

Hancock shrugs his shoulders and just like that he’s shaken off the jokes. “I mean why are you wasting your time sweeping? New leaves are just gonna fall in until we get these fixed. Unless you like nature and ghouls having an open door.”

“Some ghouls I do,” Wren admits blushing as she looks away. Hancock's face couldn’t get any redder but Nick knows if it could it just would’ve.

His metal limbs creak as he stands. He has to stop his hand from immediately reaching for a cigarette. Technically he could still smoke outside but he was tired of waiting on the lawn. He wasn’t some sort of ornament to be left lounging around for forever. He enters the house with ease. If he could he would have grown tense at the touch of the front door. It was ready to fall off completely, but somehow Wren managed to keep it on there. With the amounts of elbow grease she’s put into work in this place, she could have fixed every broken robot in the Commonwealth.

“What can I do to help?”

She doesn’t even look up from the hole she was currently pushing the leaves and shit outside through. “Could you clean the counters. I have some new kitchenware for this place.”

Nick looks around until he manages to find a mostly clean rag on the dining table. He imagines how this place must have looked in its heyday. Completely different from the old apartment he remembers Nick living in. Probably neater than most houses. Without much excess. Everything would have had its place in Wren’s home. Just as everything has its place now.

He flips the rag over and realizes it was blue with white and red stripes on the very end. Half of a white star hangs on the other half of the rag. This used to be a flag. He holds it close between his fingers. As if the fabric could provide some sort of comfort. Why did this invoke such a reaction? Was it him, or remnants of Nick rising up?

He immediately starts to rake through memories trying to place this feeling. It only stops when Wren walks over. Without a word she wraps her hands over his own, slowly covering the flag. They were so warm against his circuits.

“It was my husband’s. You’ve probably seen the folded flags everywhere in the commonwealth. I know I have. This is what’s left of ours. He got it when he was allowed to come home. It used to be the centerpiece of the whole room. We rearranged everything around it so there was never a moment you couldn’t just glance around and see it. It was his pride and joy,” her face falls as she takes the flag away. “Was before Shaun came. Nothing made us smile quite like him.”

“We’ll find him,” the promise just comes out again. As it always did when she spoke of her son. They had gotten a little further on the case. Every step felt momentous to her even though they felt like they were barely even scratching the surface to him.

“I know we will. Now how about we find a more well-suited rag?”

“Lets.”

“We’ve got one right here. Cleaner then that thing anyways.” Hancock sounds please as he tears a piece of cloth from his pocket into two. “What it helps with the high. It’s still cleaner than that thing.” Hancock reassures as he spits on the rag and starts to wipe off the counter.

“Come on. Are we gonna get this placed cleaned up or not? I hope you two aren’t planning to make this ghoul do it all by himself.”

"Nah that would be more of a Codsworth thing."

"Why don't we get the old tin can in here to help us out?"

"He tried to keep this place clean for two hundred years. He deserves a break Hancock. Besides I like doing it. It's methodical and refreshing I suppose."

By the end of the day, they had most of the house clean. They helped her move a new bed into the master bedroom, got some of the holes in the walls patched up, and even rearranged the surviving living room furniture before it got too dark to do anymore. Overall a productive day, Nick would say. Even if they didn’t really get to go out into the Commonwealth.


	3. Hot Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preston and the settlers are starting to realize something about their General and her friends.

It was a sunny day for once. The air felt so dry that everyone was surrounding the water pumps. He stands by and oversees the mass. Making sure no one is acting too greedy with the water. Nick was standing with Wren on the other side of the chaos. Watching everyone watering themselves down. Hancock was currently at one of the pumps filling up a few bottles with water. If he planned to hand them out to the ones in back of the line or sell them Preston couldn’t tell. He doesn’t really know anything about the ghoul. Well nothing except he was mayor of Goodneighbor. Not that he was ever there.

He squeezes his own bottle in his hands. Wren must be hot, yet she was still standing by. Never even considering getting some for herself, he was sure. Well, maybe she would accept some help from him.

“Hey Wren!” He may look like a kid, calling out her name and waving her down. He sort fo felt like a child again around her. The one he was when he first heard about the Minutemen. She starts to look in the opposite direction. Nick lightly elbows her and points him out. He couldn’t read her reaction with those goggles on, but they were classic her. Preston remembers the first time he met her, right before she started wearing them. Her eyes were so red, and her face so soft. He almost couldn’t believe that it was she who killed all those raiders. Then he found out that Sanctuary was her home, and her baby boy was taken.

Her words were so cold and matter of fact. As if when she put on those goggles she had managed to distance herself from everything here. So why did she keep coming back? Preston hopes it’s because she actually cares about the people here. That it was to keep up with the Minutemen updates, and maybe himself.

“Preston, how are things going?”

“Good general.” He looks between Nick and the General. “We actually got an S.O.S. earlier today. I wasn’t sure how long you would be staying so I thought it best to tell you now.”

Wren smiles politely at him. It pulls his own smile up higher onto his face. “It’s a colony on an island a little ways from here.”

Nick immediately turns to share a look with Wren. Preston sometimes thinks he can see behind those goggles. Maybe he was a synth with the ability to see through organic matter. Maybe just through tinted glass better than humans can. Their lips curl up in a manner he had never seen anymore. Just like the legends of crocodiles’ smiles and teeth. It used to be a popular tale.

“Don’t we have to talk to-”

“Nicky are you sure you can’t read minds because I think this is the third time you’ve read mine.”

“If I can then it's only worked on yours so far. Maybe it was because of our memory den adventure.”

“Ah, but you got one right before we went.”

“Just luck then.”

Preston watches their playful banter. He feels awkward as they don’t even seem to realize how close they have gotten to each other. Wren’s shoulder was practically pushing itself under Nick’s. She had her arms crossed over her chest, while his own hangs behind her back. Probably with his fist clenched closed so he wasn’t touching the small of her back. Preston had hoped.

“I told you with you at the helm that the Minutemen would be a big damn deal. I guess the job never ends though. You ready for another round?”

“Actually I was hoping I could tag along with the general for this mission.”

Wren looks surprised by this. Preston assumes its because he has never requested to go on any specific mission with her yet. If he needed to be somewhere then he went and met her there. That’s what he marks her confusion off as. He doesn’t want to think about if it wasn’t confusion at all and more of a pitying look. 

“Preston you’ve done a lot lately. Besides today is scolding. I think it’s best Nick comes with me since we already have business in the area and you can stay here and keep yourself cooled off. Next time there’s a settlement in need we’ll tackle the issue together.

“Knowing the Commonwealth there is always a next time.”

“Oh, okay yeah. Next time General. Good luck out there. Just remember to help anyone you come across out there.”

They were already walking away.

Preston knows the two mean well. He knows they are trying their best to bring peace to the Commonwealth. They just don’t realize how much distance they are putting between them and everyone else. Strong is still anxious about getting out to find the milk he wants. Piper writes and wanders when she and blue will finally set out. The only other one she ever takes with her is Hancock, and if the mayor and detective are busy then its Dogmeat or Codsworth in that order. It was clear to all the settlers. There was a hierarchy forming here, and the General didn’t even realize she was causing it.


	4. Killjoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock just wants some space, and peace. To get a break away, but life just isn't like that. Your drugs aren't always safe.

Codsworth was a killjoy. This Hancock knew as he was just one of the few killjoys he always sees in Sanctuary. Preston, the annoying woman, and Curie being some of the others. Dogmeat was cool though. He always sat by Hancock whenever the ghoul was riding a high. Made sure others didn’t bother him either unless he bothered them first. He probably picked up the skills from traveling with Mama Murphy for so long. If they didn’t kill the fun then Piper would write all about it and print it the next day.

Yeah, Sanctuary wasn’t the place to have fun. It was nothing like Goodneighbor but then again no place every really could be. Hancock pushes his way past the robot butler. He shouts after the man and tries to follow for a little bit. He gave up as soon as Hancock took his gun and sat it over his shoulder. The barrels pointing right at Codsworth. He finds a little hole in a crumbling wall at the back of the house next to Wren’s old one.

He already had the jet out. Just one hit that’s really all he needed. Just the one hit. Then he wouldn’t feel so jittery. Hancock holds the chem up to his nose. He takes in a deep breath. The smell of flavored air and a distinct undertone of fuel hits him. Someone had mixed this one with a little bit of the fuel kid. Whether if it was enough to change the entire effect of the drug he would just have to take it and see.

“Hey there.” Of course, it was Nick who found him. Hancock smiles up at him and sets the jet down for a moment.

“Come to join me, Nicky?”

“Was actually just looking for a place to smoke.” He looks over at the backyard of Wren’s old house. “This is close enough to keep watch while being just hidden enough to get away for a few minutes. That and Codsworth gave up on the backyards years ago according to Wren.”

“Your partner does seem to really get the robots ‘round ‘ere.”

“You haven’t even taken a hit yet and your already slurring.”

“Just getting ready Nicky.”

Nick leans his back against the wall, standing right beside where Hancock sits. He looks down and the ghoul returns the look. A blank stare against a cocky smile. A battle of wits, and stamina. One edge to the mayor, and one to the detective. He couldn’t wait to see where this would go.

Without putting it off any longer, Hancock takes the jet. The trace smell of fuel hadn’t affected the chem at all. Hancock’s head falls back against the wall slowly. Nick’s face grows blurry as his eyes try and hang onto him. Scrappy yellow eyes filled with a concern no one has shown Hancock in a long time. Not even Wren looked at him in such a sappy way.

“You ever think staying in this place is a bad idea?”

“What?” The word is dragged out, it takes too long to hear. Probably not nearly as long to say. Hancock looks away and glances down at the ditch a few feet away. It used to be part of the small stream. A place where Wren always thought her son would grow up playing in. He could see all the small buzzing little flies flap their wings. Every wing taking decades to bring down.

“You heard me.” His eyes glimpse eternity as they search for Nick. His yellow eyes were doors from the darkness, or were they too? It was hard for Nick to tell. “Oh don’t look at me like that Nicky. You know me. I mean Wren. Fuck grief! You know grief! An’ Wren, she’s grieving.”

Nick’s mouth takes forever to drop. It twists around before it ever really falls. The loops and twirling, swirling colors, blending in and out of each other. The grey, yellow, and brown taking on their own forms separate from the mess. They settle on the edges of Nick’s lips. The brown and grey hanging off the edges as the silver lies across the top. Comfortable as the other two clings for their lives.

“I think eventually, she’ll be ready to move on from this place.”

“You hope. You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

Hancock could feel the ground give way below him. As if all of the Commonwealth had decided to collapse right under them. If he was sober he probably wouldn’t even feel it. Since he was high though Hancock felt ready for it. If now was his time to go he would accept that. The fall would feel slower thanks to the chems. He could really contemplate life then. Maybe figure it all out. Often the chems held the secrets of the world. One just has to take them at the right time, with the right amount. Hancock guesses he has done that again.

His eyes fall up as his body drops into the broken ground. The figures who once hung from Nick’s face now falling down with him. Eventually gaining so much speed they passed him down. He could see who they were now. They were just random shapes or people. They were, of course, the three of them. The three of them as mixed up and confused as the real ones were.

He tries to reach out for Nick. Struggles to just touch him. His arms wouldn’t move. They felt like they were made of lead. As his fingers stretch out and grow they become a chalky grey. As chalky as some of the old charcoal a few of the artsy types he met through life liked to use. Was he turning into charcoal?

“It’s not our call to make Hancock.”

“It’s never your call Nick. Not even when the ghouls of Diamond City needed you most.”

Silence, and for once the silence was the loudest thing in the world. Was he so used to the hustle and bustle of the streets and alleys of Goodneighbor that silence could actually deafen him? It could just be the old synths silence. He wasn’t used to it. Even when he didn’t talk the detective was always making some sort of noise. A light whirring of his gears that no one ever took notice of. No one except him. Hancock always listened for those whirrs. Just as much as he listened for Wren’s breath. Anything to show they were still alive. That they were still there and not just hallucinations. Oh he had so many hallucinations of them that felt so real. That sounded so real. It was that absence that grounded him. That let him know what was really going on.

“Do you still blame me for not being there when your brother became mayor?”

Nick’s voice grounds him, and Hancock wonders how many times has he imagined this conversation before. Deep down he knew it wasn’t Nick’s fought. After all he had been there and he didn’t even do anything until after the fact. Nick was gone. Saving a life and taking others. He was Nick the detective by then. This was no hallucination, it couldn’t be, because Nick was here before. Before he took the jet. Maybe they weren’t saying what he thinks, but he was still there. Doing something. Probably just watching Hancock choke on his own spit. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Heh, is it that obvious?”

“Not as obvious as it is that you blame yourself even more.”

“I guess I’m a hypocrite.”

“Yeah you are, but it doesn’t hurt to show concerns for others. Besides your right. I should have been there.”

“Yeah.”

Finally, their eyes meet again. No longer were they the doors to eternity. Now they were cesspools of radiation. The ultimate end of all in the Commonwealth. The faces of ghouls and friends long dead and gone, some of whom he had killed, passes through the pools. Reminding him. They were always hanging around, just usually not so many at once.

“I’m sorry Hancock. Sorry that I wasn’t there. That I didn’t think it would get so far when I was there.”

“I should’ve ‘ave done more too.”

The cesspools spill out then flooding Hancock with their radiation. Filling the emptiness of the broken ground beneath his body. He was still falling when they start. The face falling past collecting at the bottom. They start speaking at each other and him as they pile one on top of the other. Their faces reaching up. Their teeth becoming as sharp as knives. They were ready to tear him to shreds to consume all of him. They were ready and so was he.

An arm around his shoulders freezing the falling. Stopping him in the middle of the nothingness. As if to give him a mass of matter to stand upon. Not that there was anything there but the faces, and the radiation. The cesspit of the Commonwealth as a whole. Awful people who’ve done awful things, just like him. Bystanders and cowards, just like them.

“I’m here now John. I can’t change the past. Or raise the dead. It’s a Hell of a time just to try and help the living. Our jobs aren’t easy ones. Living ain’t either, but I’m here.” The arm seems to grow frailer as it tightens its grip around Hancock. Now lifting him out of the dark space, closer to what remained of the ground. What remained of this Hellscape.

“This place may not be the best for Wren, or even for us, but if it helps her then we can deal with it for now. Right?”

“Right?”

“She’ll move on.”

“I mean she already has in some ways.” His laugh is hollow, and Nick didn’t respond. He didn’t care for those sorts of jokes. Even if they were true. Nick saw Wren’s past life in some sort of sacredness. As if it met more then their current one. He would have to get over that at some point. That point wouldn’t be anytime soon. It will have to happen or the three of them, well they wouldn’t work as great as they currently do for long. A trio is only as strong as its weakest link. It was getting messier this life of theirs. Harder to tell who that link was nowadays. Hancock finally closes his eyes. He presses them so hard together that it felt like they would never part. That he would never see the faces again. It was a comforting thought until he feels his head hit metal. Suddenly Hancock remembers there are a few faces he would still like to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't condone drug use.


	5. Those We Save

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the people we help can't be saved. Sometimes their choices lead them to hurt others.

Wren watches in horror as the bomb goes off. Chunks of metal and dirt are hurled in every direction as the grenade completely misses its intended target. Nick, hiding behind a roadblock, was covered up by the dust and aftermath. In seconds he was gone. Her eyes cling to where she saw him last. It was her grenade. Her throw. Her mistake.

Heart racing she forgets all about the raiders that were upon them. She feeds into the same panic that had caused her to throw the frag grenade. Surging through the still settling aftermath Wren bites her tongue. Her feet head straight to the roadblock where Nick had been. She feels around hands first. As callous fingers rub against patched up cloth she sinks her whole hand into it. A light comes out of the dust as she pulls the synth detective away from the mess.

“Hey now, watch it. This jacket is older then,” his facial expression relaxes as he realizes it’s her. It’s his partner. “well not us, but it’s pretty damn old.”

“Damn it, Nick, I thought I got you in that mess. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t really give me much time. I assume you didn’t call out my name because it was smart. We don’t know how many raiders are still nearby.”

“I’m getting you out of here.”

“The blast didn’t blow me to bits. We can still pull through this one.”

“Don’t start!” Wren pushes him down as the tips of guns start finding their way through the cloud. Fingers fumble past each other, as the pair not only reach for extra ammo but struggle to reload their weapons. Wren rolls herself off of Nick. Her back hits the dirt with a resounding thump. Almost instantaneously the tips were pointed at them. Nick rolls his eyes as some of the raiders begin coughing. Dirt clings to their clothes as they keep their shaking guns aimed.

“Wait, Nick Valentine?”

“Not many other synths with a hole in this face running around.”

“Oh man! Everyone stand down! It’s Nick!” The raiders step away as one with blonde hair, and a bandana over his mouth offers a hand down. “Sorry about that Nick.”

“Oh uh, thanks for stopping.” Nick takes the hand and is hoisted up with ease. 

“No problem. I owe you a lot, so I can keep the guys from killing you just this once.”

Nick looks back at Wren who was pushing herself up off the ground. She flashes him a smile as the raider talks. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties and clearly held some fond memories of the old synth.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re doing something with yourself.”

“Yeah, you two should probably head out of here. We’re covering this portion of the road, but if you head a few feet off of the path you should be able to avoid the rest.” The young man quickly hugs Nick before patting him on the shoulder. “Be careful with him.” He instructs Wren before walking away.

Nick doesn’t stand still for long. He wasn’t stunned by the whole interaction as she was. Quickly he pulls a cigarette out. He lights it and rests it in between his teeth and the missing cheek. Wren watches him carefully. When the dust settles they’re gone. There was no evidence besides the pieces of a broken bomb, that they were ever there. As if they were ghosts there to offer some sort of guidance.

Her eyes fall on his jacket. She wears the mirrored one that Ellie had gifted her, but Nick’s, his was the real deal. All those tears and patches were from years of surviving this place. Years of being uncompromising in who he was and wanted to be. How many people did he help just to see them become those who hurt others? How many people did he try his best to help only to learn that they died? Will she see that happen to those she loves? How lucky had she been so far?

“Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you-”

“Last time I saw that kid, his mom had just died and his father was in the gunners. He was left alone in Diamond City. I gave him a gun, taught him how to shoot. Ellie found him a job. A month later he moved out of the city. Never expected him to follow in his pa’s steps, but I suppose that’s what this wasteland does to people.”

“At least he’s not with the gunners.”

“He would be safer if he was,” Nick admits.

Wren grabs Nick’s hand and pulls him towards the woods. He trails behind her steps, and every time she looks back his eyes are everywhere but on their path. Everywhere but on their hands. When they get back home things will get better, she tells herself. When they get home he’ll see all the good he’s still doing. Fear crawls up her spine. A deep-seated, ever-growing fear, of the day he may not be able to see the good they’ve done. One day the grief may get to be too much for everyone, but it’s Nick she worries about it the most with.


End file.
